Prophecy of the Enslaved
by Yasuko
Summary: AU. Inuyasha and Sango ravage the land in search of her. At the hands of an unstable prophecy and under the reign of an oppressive prince can Kagome fulfill her duties as it's conduit, and keep her sanity in both love and life?
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **Though hardly willing to admit it, I do not own Inuyasha nor any of his affiliates. Sad isn't it that I should be robbed of such a priveledge as squandering his name in the filth of my own stories that pale in comparison to Takahashi's brilliantly mastered opposition. Well bad luck once again, so I'll only be borrowing him.

**AN: **Well I'm off with one more fic to add to my already decaying collection. Hopefully I'll be able to stick with this one as I was unable to stick to the others. They'll have to be rewritten, just a tidbit so I'm sure they'll work out properly and all, but now on to this story. In just the prologue it doesn't really seem like there's much connection to Inuyasha at all, but with the arrival of the first chapter so I hope your understanding will be reached. This once again is on a whim so its outcome will for now be a mystery even to me, a vague concept that I hope I shall continue for I like the current flow of its storyline. Anyways please partake of the few words gathered here and tell me what you think.

* * *

_**Prologue:**_

The night wind cooed a lullaby, a slight glimmering of angels' voices lulling her to sleep. It sank deep into the caverns of her chest, the hollowed crevice that had once housed her shallow heart. Within its searing depths, it no longer provided warmth but merely became a cluster of fears and broken dreams. The night's song was hardly comfort enough to drown out the lamenting of her broken soul. Twisting fitfully in her sleep she kneaded her way into the dirt, nestled in the flection of a tree roots.

Luminous, her figure shone brightly in the dim midnight of the giant forest's berth; a beacon to her own misgivings. Supple skin carved her perfectly etched features and her hair bled out upon the dirt. In the midst of it's coils fresh shoots of growth reached up with wavering arms towards the silent sky. Mysteries endowed, she slept fearful and lonely, awaiting her judgment at the feet of the lake.

Its whispering had kept her awake long into the night, but exhaustion had taken its toll on her long ago. Her breaths were born on borrowed time, borrowed strength, and she had sunk deep into the mud at its banks flickering between the essence of her life force and the shadows that merged beneath the glassy surface. Some time later she had been moved, by soft hands and gentle words to the bed she now resigned herself to. It was not yet her time, he had whispered insistently, a desperation leering at the heels of his words. But all that had transpired had been lost on her, for in her stupor the words were swift comfort, but aided not her failing heart.

She had come to his accursed Carean forest to die. Her purpose had been outlived and in her breast her heartbeat slowed to a vague pounding of hoofbeats on some distant shore. The agony of her lose stretched to the callous veins that carried her poisoned blood, prolonged her suffering. As the morning gathered slowly on the horizon she could feel it carry with it the hopes of her impending doom. Her wings curled loftily about her their fringe scarred brown by the mud and dirt congealed beneath her. A constant comfort and indefinite reminder of her stout failure. They moved steadily to shield her from the cold, as if the night had not warranted such protection; however dangerous its darkness had been, the night paled in comparison to the premonition of the day's outcome.

As sunlight struck the waters of the Sazchnen lake, the winds stilled and as her dreams careened to a dim standstill, her tanned skin warmed to the flaring rays. Stirring gently she did not rise but let her lips part gently to taste the morning air. It was fresh and clean, harboring the sickening memory of a time when it did not relinquish such a feeling of calm. Collecting it within her lungs, like a sea of billowing wild flowers, she let it cling to her and pervade her being as a solace to her faltering heart. Eyelids quavering she shifted gently so as not to disturb the peacefulness of the dawn. Her wings folded neatly behind her as she stood, unwilling to brush the grime from her thin garment that swayed in the breeze of her motion. It curled in enticing arcs about her strong legs and shrank to her abdomen slowly rising in tight complaint about her breasts. A succulent figure she cut in the solitude of the lake front, her image not lost on those that looked on from the cover of the trees, hiding just as much from her sight as from her power.

Making her way to the beach she stepped silently over pebbles her wingtips barely breeching the leeway in between. Cool lake water lapped at her ankles before she stopped her inane course into its depths. Her arms flung themselves out imploringly to the expanse of its waters. Her eyes beseeched its master to take her, cradle her in his arms as he cradled the lake bed so stoutly, so unhesitatingly to his breast. On her lips lingered his name, but it would not come forth. She longed for the safety of the afterlife, its timid response to her beckoning. In a stumbling of resolution she felt it curb its opposition but adamantly it refused her request. Such a cold front was afforded her tears. Stinging and sapphire they fell marring her cheeks with their scorching ferocity. Before long she found herself kneeling in the freezing waters, her wings soaked to the bone and heavy at her back. The wind had started up again and she felt it call to her.

_Beloved..._

Its flagrant taunting shattered her resolve, broke its crystalline structure into a thousand mournful pieces that hurled themselves about in a terrifying storm of her fury. She sank her shoulders down as she bent to clasp her knees in her shivering palms. Her wings fluttered violently and she raised her head in grim determination. Defiance shown in her eyes, dared to outdo the deeds of injustice thrust upon her. Standing up with little difficulty she raised herself to her full height. The air around her screamed with the potency of her power, alive with her poison. Concocted in the confines of her very soul it stung the edges of the fading night and clung to the early morning dew. Subtly it remedied her strife, but was not enough to cure her of her wonton desire. She shouted dangerously into the wind, into the very heart of the trees that encroached upon the edge of the lake, the very pit of the lake itself.

"I have lost so much for you... and now you will not even allow me the peace of death. How can your heart be so hard, so cold as to deny me the freedom in death which you stole from me in life?"

Shaking in her fury her shivers of anger turned to frightened ones as a hand gripped her shoulder tightly. The silent hum of power permeated this unknown being and she melted into it's presence...

_Beloved..._


	2. Meager Beginnings

**AN:** Ok now it should be much easier to understand the Inuyasha connection. The prologue was far from it, but I didn't want to give anything away... just yet at least. Oh and just on a random note of no consequence... I try not to leave any spelling mistakes but somehow my computer misses minor ones and I can only read over this so many times at once, but I usually find most of them (after I've posted it and made myself look foolish), but if not please alert me of them so I may correct them! Thank you! And now on with the story...

_**Chapter 1- Meager Beginnings**_

He hacked away endlessly at the thick soil as if hoping to beat it to life. Thick channels melded up into little hills of cleaved earth. It was dry and parched, scorched by the unforgiving sun that hung low and foreboding in the western sky. He shifted the hoe from one hand to the other flexing tired muscles generously as he reached the end of the current row. This life of scraping a meager existence off this hell forsaken land would not have been so bad, if only... he shot a despairing glance over his shoulder.

The earth curled beneath his boots grasping at the smooth dearskin as he made his way to the well. It sat dissolutely at the edge of his property, sunk between the valley of two hills. Scooping up the bucket he let it slide effortlessly down the length of the rope into the bleak depths of the stone prison. He stared out into the sunset as he raised it, and then taking a swift drink of the cool liquid he cursed softly beneath his breath. The dark shape of a castle, its spires rising up to pierce the sky, smeared the glorious pinks, tarnished the golden hues and beckoned with outstretched palms at the peaks of its towers to the night. It stood a constant reminder of the heavy taxes, the overbearing laws, and the unethical system of justice. Within its depths the haughty king sat, perhaps counting his gold, perhaps deciding which prisoners to hang on the morrow.

A lump formed in his throat that not even the gulps of soothing water could dislodge. He turned away from the slipping rays of warmth and the cold stone that blocked them from their full potential and stocked back to his hoe. Hefting it easily he strode off across the lawn towards the farm house that sat in the crook of a small dip in the land. It's thatched roof glimmered in the failing light, its usual welcome to his tired limbs.

Within its sturdy walls youth and innocence were lost, as its windows had weathered every storm, its hearth every dark and painful night, so had its table wept when barely dined upon and its carpets mourned for they were old and tattered their once beautiful displays of hillocks and sweeping knolls tarnished with age. It was all at once grim and peaceful, its own opponent of warmth and cool indifference. He smiled, a lean grin that thinned his lips and curved the skin of his brow in deep furrows. It was a lost comfort to adore ones own house as his home. The days of man's ownership had long since passed with the coming of their king.

He made his way toward it his footsteps slowly drifting in the direction of the stables. The soft neighing of the white stallion and the dapple mare was soothing in the dimming hours of daylight. He strode over to their gate purposefully, patting the stallion's muzzle with a practiced touch receiving a stout whinny of approval. The mare was harder to please her large eyes silent wary orbs that gazed at him intently. She seemed bent on indifference and neither made a sound of assent nor stirred to his hand. The scent of them pervaded the evening air and wafted about on dust motes in the sparse sunlight that shone through the cracked wooden slats. They stood farther apart now that the summer months were upon them. In the winter they were often wont to sidle up to one another for warmth and comfort, but now they clung to the edges of the stiff doorway hugging them opposed to each other. He'd marveled once at their calmness around each other, no other horse could stand the white stallion and in the same manner he tolerated few riders. He stroked the broad strip between her eyes, thankful for her allowance towards the rowdy horse that stood beside her. He patted her gently checking to be sure their store of grain and hay had not yet receded into nothingness. An ample enough pile sat demurely in their tray next to a half full trough of water. Gently whispering a good bye he strode off, back in the direction of his dwelling. He reached its comforting entranceway in a few strides and already felt the breath of its welcome.

He shifted gently placing the hoe by the doorposts and entered slowly his soft boots making a barely audible shush along the floorboards. The door let itself fall inwards slowly, latched closed without the thunder of slamming. The wind was light this night and not enough to carry through the thick logs that spanned the walls.

Hardened muscles bent as he pulled a chair out from a table that centered itself within the confines of the room. He sat down softly and reached for a hard chunk of rye. It flaked easily in his rough palms and he signed visibly, sinking deeper into the hard oak of the chair elbows resting intently on the tabletop. The night rustled gently outside as he let his thoughts wander as they often did, ut he kept them reigned in this evening lest they wander too far.

The fields were sparse this year he reflected just as he remembered the way the trees had hung, their leaves a deep green from the constant sheen of sunlight. The summer sun had spent its wrath assaulting the once vibrant greenery. It sunk into them and fed upon their parched veins in search of the very water they themselves required. The autumn months were approaching with their usual earnest and yet the rains would not yet grace the land with their blessing. Each year they came later in the season and the summer seemed to last longer and longer holding them off with an iron will of heat and striking resistance. The roots of long prosperous trees were retreating from the soil bending their strong roots in a more lateral span to encompass a terrain of sickly earth hunting for sustenance as the season of heat progressed.

Not so many years ago a great river, the Rimathran, had included this very plot of soil in its deep flood plain, its estuaries clinging to the edges of his orchards, soaking the dregs of his fields. A frosty gleam slid across his vacant eyes as he thought back on it. He'd been young and impetuous, fearless to accede to the king's wish that the great river be diverted to his own planned course. Thrust into responsibility for the agrarian countryside that encompassed large portions of the river and her profit at such a young age he'd not only been a foolhardy lad willing to please the obviously unsatisfied ruler, but also unaware of the heavy consequences. At the time none of them had been. They'd let him ground up the earth and lead their water source to his own underground aquifer, to satisfy his own needs as well as to give aid to his already offensive wealth. No one had suspected ulterior motive, never before having witnessed a king that cared for anything above the welfare of his people they were easily herded to his cause. Now they payed a heavy tax for water they could not get on their own. He was lucky, he reflected, few people had access to their own water source as he did with his well. They payed dearly for lack of it, and their king pulled so easily at their meager earnings that many were barren and dehydrated just as the fruitless land.

Scowling he stood up slowly from the rough wooden chair and denied the rest of the thoughts that threatened to smother his already seething mind. It was an infuriating predicament their country was in, and so much of it had only just begun.

* * *

In the early shades of dawn the sound of lowing cattle separated the bonds of sleep from their ever present companion, night. Their calls awoke the strapping youth as they always did, rising him from a night of blissful rest; the kind that carried with it a sense of accomplishment and worth in exchange for a hard days work. Stealing a glance towards his bedside mirror Inuyasha flung the sheets up from his body. Stepping off from the bed he brought his unbridled main of unruly hair into a tight knot at the nape of his neck. Tightening it with thick yet skilled fingers he rose and dressed in silence letting the sounds of the morning rush over him, the crisp summer air filling his lungs. He went about his duties for the day without care for anything but the work that lay ahead of him.

As the sun rose the noontide found him bare backed and sweating chopping feverishly at blocks of wood. It was not the effort of the ax's swing that drove him to such over zealous pursuits but a strange sense of urgency had engulfed him and he strove to gain a pile worthy of an inferno. He cracked the ax handle up and down, muscles bulging as his knuckles paled in exertion. The stack grew at an alarming rate towering over his bulky form in mere minutes, but not until it was a wide and staggering mass of thorns and ranging brambles did he check himself. He stepped back from his work of art regarding it wryly.

How long had he been tending to the cows before he'd sensed her? No, he shook his head he had not sensed her, for he had never _sensed_ anyone before. It was more of a sudden understanding of her presence, the acknowledgment of her standing beside him where there had only been the glint of dew and heat before. Her faint words addled him now that the task she had commanded was all but finished. Reaching into his trouser pocket he pulled out a slab of flint and from his side belt he tightly gripped his steel knife. He speculated her vague words and the thrum of some unknown power that had coursed though each syllable.

Never had such a strange specter appeared on his land. He cursed the memory of his demon brother, the only cause for such an occurrence he could define. He had not seen the foul Sesshoumaru in over a decade, but to an extent it was as if he'd never left. The remnants of his departure had ruptured the quiet countryside with its vile impudence. Storming off into the night so long ago he'd left behind an orphaned brother, alone to tend to the fires of their ramshackled barn as well as the flames of their father's death. From the corner of his eye he caught the tired woodworking that bent and swayed in the tiniest of breaths, its frail structure naught but a dim recollection of its past glory. Once, he pulled the image from deep within his fuzzing memory, their had been parties and celebrations of the grandest kind held in that barn. But then it had been the largest building for miles and with any gathering it was a coveted site. Red and welcoming its stiff boarded walls had been a comfort, a strong shelter, and the crucible of his family. It held so many memories, so many happy moments. Gritting his teeth sharply, Inuyasha turned his head, pulling his peripheral vision away from the rotting poles and the recollection of smoldering wood. For an instant the scent of its burning fumed within his nostrils and flared within his lungs.

His brother was the cause of this tragedy, the ill-omened appearance of this wraith. Nothing else could have warranted a brush with the devil's servant. Cringing he jerked the knife from his belt and in swift movements he knelt and lit the tower of lumber. Its quick catch and the rapid spread of fire caught his breath and he seethed with the idea that once again fire would rekindle the old hatreds, the old wounds that had been devoid of this land. The flames peaked and hugged the logs closely until the blaze licked the sky above it hungrily. And then, he felt again her presence beside him.

"Yes," she crooned gently, a mischievous smile playing across her lips. In the fading light he caught the hint of laughter that swelled in the corner of her eyes, and danced rhythmically across the pale skin of her collar bone. "This is fair enough a flame to bring them in for miles." The words slid from her mouth luscious and enticing, and yet not a one had implied the impression that clung to him with their swift and subtle fall from her tongue.

As if she had felt his eyes upon her she suddenly turned to regard him. Her smile deepened and she looked him up and down. Something in her mannerisms differed from when she'd approached him that morning. Then, she'd seemed frail and shy, a stuttering child when she'd beseeched him this ridiculous task. Now in stark contrast she stood before him a woman well aware of the way her clothes clung to her body in the most convenient of places, strong willed, and capable. He watched as she brought her hand up to his cheek bone tracing it with her delicate fingers. He grimaced unwillingly repulsed by her clammy touch.

She sighed noticing this, "If only for youth." Extravagantly dramatic she clapped a hand to her forehead and swooned over his rugged physic. Her eyes roved over his toned muscles expressively not missing an inch of his honed flesh and tempting posturing. He gaped at her openly, surprised by the shameless flaunting of her stares. But he was not given the opportunity to discern the motivation behind them for in an instant she had dissolved to a mere glimmer of evening mist alight upon the wind.

* * *

Ripples floundered over the rough stones as they spread from her fingertips. Lolling her hand to over the rim of the bobbing skiff, she awaited the other priestesses to join her. They were returning to their temple at the center of the lake, and yet still despite their duty to the island gods many of them lagged sorely behind. On a short mission of healing they'd been summoned to an outcrop just off the shore. A village had once again been attacked. It seemed that as of late their leader had been unsatisfied with the tithes his people applied him, as was his custom in the extreme heat of the season They were poor souls, the ravaged heart of their small empire being taxed out of house and home.

The priestesses lingered for but a day and a night to nurture the wounded, many who would undoubtedly never recover from the wounds they had sustained. Severed limbs were not an uncommon sight as the king became anxious. This was the second raid of the season. The first of them had started in late winter, but months ago had never alluded to the harshness with which he carried out his threats now. They had been simple stuttering attempts to reign in a flighty mountain province, and very unsuccessful. Apparently their king had been smart enough to learn from such mistakes. Now with his insignia appropriately affixed to every village gate for leagues in all directions he was ready and willing to squeeze a tribute out of them.

Shifting gently over the coarse wooden seat of the thin boat she raised her palm from the glassy surface of the lake and ran it smoothly across her brow. In the waning months of summer the heat was enough to squelch the very blood in a mans veins. The boat swayed gently over the smooth current, its shift of water coming to rest as tiny hands grasping at the rocky beach; they clung with earnest, almost eager to lay waste to the pebbles set before them. She sighed inwardly as she scanned the tree line for a sign of her returning companions. Scattered throughout the village to where they were most needed she had not seen them since they had split up the day before. They had been late on returning to a afore decided meeting place before, so she did not worry herself over their absences, merely frustrated her already frazzled nerves over the need to return to their island.

She stared across the waters of the frigid lake, its tide was light and airy and carried with it the debris of leaves and thin twigs that had been swept along the shore. Raising her eyes from the depths she shielded them from the unforgiving sun, her smoldering gaze locked on the charred earth, and made out the shape of swaying trees. The Carean forest stood tall and foreboding a black smear of wavering shadows even at such a distance and yet in comparison to the carnage and brutality she had only just witnessed the trees seemed to extend an odd welcome. She imagined their gnarled trunks reaching up into strong limbs of twisted oak and beech that beckoned her back into their arms after the sallow days she had spent caring for the attacked villagers. Their wide leaves would soak up the sun and let their sweet smell linger in the fragrant air that circulated in tiny breezes that puffed and coaxed her hair into rivulets of black curls about her shoulders. She smiled gently at natures smooth tranquility as she let her self sink into the hard wood of the slats.

Reality was a much harder master to serve than even the gods she waited on. Demanding and unrelenting it pressed in ever closer, and ever neared the presence of mortality with the growing ferocity of their tyrant king. Staring down at her unscarred white palms she could not suppress the urge that rose like bile in her throat. Even her teachings of peace could not have kept the hatred that crept into her soul and gouged at her heart at the very thought of his injustices. He ruled with an steel fist, a harsh grasp that never relinquished its captured people to the freedom that stood just beyond his cage of fingers. Such a foul creature he had never been so deranged when his rulership had began, and she severely doubted that it would ever return to the monotony it had once been. The changing between one king and the next had never struck her with much importance until now, when this new king threatened everything that their country, that Galmaed, had stood for; threatened it with the cruelty and icy grip of a heartless despot.

A great sigh erupted from the confines of her chest as she saw them approaching. Yuka smiled at her sweetly although she could already see the stains of fresh blood that covered her tunic. Eri and Ayumi trailed after her, their steps more focused and sure. She eyed the three of them with a stout eye, waiting for their own assumptions of this new raid before asserting her own. They entered the tiny skiff slowly and quietly nodding gently in acknowledgment. Kagome smiled back at them her own blood encrusted cloak hidden beneath her very seat; the time would come later to show them it and to expose what else lie folded within its depths. But as even she did not understand its meaning, so she could not yet reveal it to them. Something, something powerful kept her from bringing it to their attention; something that curled its icy strains of power about her arms and held her back all but sucking the life out of her frozen lungs as it searched to goad her into understanding.

She shook herself visibly but her companions if they had noticed made no sign, only continued to stare off into the horizon marking the blur of the island in the distance as the oars pumped away in the grip of her white-knuckled hands.

* * *

_She grasped endlessly at the thin strips of fabric that littered the floor beside her. Around and around she wrapped them, an endless twisting and turning, the sharp consistent circling of her wrists coinciding with the pain that engulfed her forearm. A thick slice had separated the flesh down its length and it burned as she battled with another wound that bled just as fiercely._

_They'd entered the village together and split up in all directions. The fires that burned deep and angry along the cliffs above the northern shore had brought them here , they warned of a battle, an attack by the king's own soldiers. The warning had alluded only to that, and now as she worked feverishly to stop the flow of blood that churned and bubbled in a pool about her knees where they bent neatly beneath her she cursed the kings soldiers that had not yet abandoned their prey._

_Arriving in the midst of blood and a flurry of swords she witnessed the scuffle of soldiers and poorly armed Caräklan citizens. A curve of swaggering men had greeted her and when she first fell to the aid of the man lying before her now they had objected vehemently, one even daring to grab at her cloak and thrust her away. As she staggered back the same one that had tossed her away began to hack unceremoniously at the injured man's torso. Throwing caution to the winds she rushed once again to his aid and earned herself the cut that now ravaged down the smooth skin of her right forearm._

_Without retreating she glared at the soldier as he and his men finally decided to leave shouting out a warning of further attacks if their ruler did not get what was due him the next time they came for tribute. Tumbling to her knees she tore the fallen mans shirt into a hundred meager strips of cloth that bloodstained and torn fell away easily crouching hungrily at her side._

_And now once again she was caught in the motion of it, grasping, panting, tightening again and again in a sweaty mess of expended flesh tirelessly extended to a failing task. She gripped each strip of cloth with weakening hands but her grip somehow remained strong and invariably tight as she stretched it across the faltering flesh that melted into itself as she worked. It was an effortless repetition of motion round and round that bloodied torso, the slick sheen of insides gleaming in the failing light._

_Nothing could have saved him now with so much blood swirling in the growing puddle around them. They both knew it, she realized as he grabbed her sharply by the wrist. His even smile surprised her, brave to say the least and yet it held no sense of courage within it, only hope and something that seemed almost like exultation etched in his still features. He brought her captured limb to his chest his other hand struggling with something in his pocket. When finally he managed to recover it the hand that held his to his chest had already grown weaker, colder. He secured it again though with a firm if feebler grip as he surrounded with his other hand._

_A cool stone surface pressed into her palm, felt as if it were pressing through her palm with the force it managed to entrap in its small area. It radiated a hot power and yet it felt frozen within her slight hand. He covered it with her faint fingers and closed his hand about hers, keeping it there until the life drained from his face and his limbs fell stiff to his sides._

_The cool stone shone back at her from his eyes cold and lifeless, just as it pulsated cold and deadly in her hand, burning away the flesh with its searing frozen heat._

_"Kagome." Its crystal coat shone brightly, almost with an inner longing, a concealed intelligence. It vibrated calm and steady as it called to her burning her again and again. "Kagome." The pain ran up her arm, deep as the bone it curled about her bones and stung with each whispered sound. "Kagome." And now it was screaming, striking her across the face with its blatant energy, a furious force that sought her out in the shadows and called her to the light._

"Kagome. Kagome, are you alright?" She awoke sharply to Ayumi's voice. It's soft undertones brought her back slowly and soothingly but her hand remained firmly curved about the jewel nestled in the folds of her tunic.

"Were you having a nightmare? You were screaming something terrible, and your arm..." She assisted Kagome in raising herself up, handing the head priestess a cup of tea. As she reached her hand out to accept it Ayumi saw the stain of fresh blood that had crept out onto the fabric of her sleeve crawling across its white clarity to mar it with red tears, red heat, red life. She rushed to stop the bleeding unsure of where such a gash would have come from

Quelling it with a slight tourniquet just to hold out for as long as it took to wrap the wound, she stared at Kagome's calm expression. Such a cut would have brought Ayumi herself to hysterics and yet in her fellow priestess there was not even a sign of fright; a lone tear did not grace her still features which themselves were not contorted with the pain that her companion felt for her as she set a light poultice to the wound and bound it.

"Where did you get this?"

**AN:** I realize so far the chapters don't appear quite long, but they should lengthen after some time, as I get more into the flow of the story... hopefully because I hate short chapters just as much as the next person. Anyways I'll be off to start on the next chapter...


	3. Ring Of Fire

**AN:** On to another chapter... not much to say here, just hope you're enjoying it so far...

_**Chapter 2- Ring of Fire**_

The air hung deep and fragrant, scented with the shrewd harshness of her power as it permeated the thinning atmosphere. It clung like a mistress' garments to the lining of his lungs, pierced his bare flesh with an embrace of scorching heat. It was overbearing, ruthless even to one who had lived in a sun drenched land; its terrible warmth catching at each gasping breath. It did not truly rule his tiring lungs and yet he felt it as an ever-present nuance as he focused his energy on understanding what was taking place before him.

Watching the golden flames engulf the oncoming darkness, he could not wrest his thoughts from the demon who had only just deserted his side. Their limited exchange of words was awkward even of such short acquaintance but as her figure had wavered in the night wind her promise of freedom during the early hours she'd accosted him and pledged his sweat and muscle to the now completed task, seemed just as fickle. Now in the flickering of firelight they carried no weighty impression with their repetition, even if their crude syllables were still heavy on his tongue and dark upon his mind. They proposed a freedom, an escape from something he had not yet grasped the full concept of and so was wasted with their credibility; their effectiveness in a land he did not yet see so troubled as to require such rash acts of vengeance as she had alluded to.

Before him the wood burned incessantly, and yet had not charred itself into ash. Uncannily it glowed with an otherworldly light apart from the gilded flames that sank their many teeth into the blackened sky. It remained a distant entity even now though its constant flickering seared his sun hardened hide. He glanced about it, form rigid and unyielding in the onslaught of heat, searching for a sign of the woman, a sign of purpose in the blaze that captured the night in the crucible of its seeking conflagrations. Scanning the dancing blaze his eyes fell upon a flickering that was not an outlet of the fire; a thickening light that wavered far off in the trees. It shone a sickening color that reminded him of sickness, swelled his churning stomach with a figment of nauseating stench. In its aftermath he heard a steady thread of laughter. Light upon the wind that had suddenly arose, it scored his bones and beat at his ears as it assailed him.

It was the copious glee of the demon that had incited it, he realized as her form materialized in the heart of the blaze. He hair stood on end raging up into the edges of the flame, courting the halcyon tongues with black curlicues that twisted and wound supple lengths about their smoldering companions. Her skin shone with the stolen light of the fire but did not blister in its intense heat. It seemed more that the warmth aided her, giving her strength that even from his distance he could feel radiating from her creamy skin; a thousand ripples of power challenging him again and again as they fled her being. She floated her feet lulling below her inches from the blackened wood.

He could do nothing but stare open-mouth as she smiled at him from the center of disaster, her lips curling thick and welcoming in calming arcs that trailed off in the slight lines of her cheek bones. Her eyes drifted over him, no less provocative or searching than they had been when first she had looked upon him so intently. Unable to pull his gaze away even from the deep daggers that shot him inquisitive glances and ate away at his resolve he merely stood stock still, one hand raised, unbidden by his master, in an uncertain gesture. Open palmed and daringly it sought the beauty that stood before him; the glorious demon of a creature that was all eyes and limbs. The even flow of her stomach, her slender waist and rising breasts were lost on him. He saw only the raging eyes and firm legs that with her shifting arms held her suspended just as she held his gaze.

In one swift moment all the world had stopped, and then her gaze left him and her body swivelled to look in another direction. Everything came running back to him and his hand shook with the fierce heat battered away at it so closely extended into the flames. He shifted back gently, unsure of himself, of his own limbs that faltered beneath him stumbling gracelessly as the attempted a retreat. Carefully he lifted his chin, followed the demoness' sharp gaze to the tops of swaying trees. Again the soft wind had risen to jolt him from the severity of the fire's temperature. It carried a dank dampness that coated him in mild dew drops and lit upon his eyelashes so that he had to shake them sternly to see properly. Far off he could see a disturbance in the canopy of trees nothing wholly unlike a stiff, strong wind and yet it gave the impression of something far more foreboding.

As it neared he braced himself wondering once again at his foolishness for committing himself to the foolish causes of a hellion. He had earned himself enough trouble for all his life. Never again would he find himself fancying the idea of adventure as he was sometimes wont to do. Now as the raging beast that hid beneath the forest's towering giants grew closer he felt his will split. Somewhere in his childish heart he longed to cower before the undoubtable death that was hurtling towards him; wished with every fiber of his being to sink into the earth below him, become the dirt, the rocks that lay scattered beneath him safe from the assault. But rather than give in to such wishes he rested with another part of him, the courage that years of hardships had born within his tight limbs. He stood rigid a muscle in his jaw working imperceptibly as he stared in the direction of the oncoming threat.

Kagome started as Ayumi questioned her once again.

"Where did you get this?"

Involuntarily her fingers tightened about the stone. She shook her head gently, shoulders twitching in a tight shrug unsure if her fellow priestess had yet noticed the jewel she clutched tightly to her side. She followed the worried gaze that passed over her, scurrying across her form. But it did not seem as if she had because her eyes returned quickly to the wide gash in her arm. Returning from Caräklan she had been too feverish and worn, to capably wrap and bind the wound. There had been no sense in it, and somehow as she'd collapsed upon her bed that night nothing mattered more than the jewel. It fed upon her as she held it within her hands, even now its cold wreath of power encircled her veins and languished in her youth. Feeling this she did not resist, even as it strained her, for some inner sustenance permeated from its presence. She held it close and felt the smooth calm that swept over her.

The crushing pain she knew had to exist down the length of her forearm was absent as Ayumi examined it. Not even a twinge of discomfort reached her consciousness. She didn't understand its power but she held the jewel tightly and smiled up at her friend. "It's only a cut, Ayumi, don't worry yourself over it. Some rowdy soldier decided picking on innocent citizens wasn't enough so he had to attack an unarmed priestess as well."

Unwilling to let go the concept of the pain that must be associated with the deep wound Ayumi protested gently; the smile on Kagome's face dissuaded her fierce rebuke. "Yes but it is deep, dangerously deep. You must be careful. You know the kings soldiers are ruthless, we've seen such things before." She managed a small smile, her lips thinned out in her meager attempt to ease her own fears of her friends condition. The wound was one of great proportions and she feared an infection may have set in within the time it was left to itself. "Just keep it wrapped alright, and take the day off. Eri and Yuka, the three of us can handle your duties for the day."

"Thank you, Ayumi." Kagome smiled gently as her friend exited the room.

She sat up slowly testing her left arm gently. Still no pain. Sighing evenly she brought her right arm up slowly the jewel held firmly within her hand, compacted against the smooth skin of her creamy palm. She held it before her unwilling to unfurl the tight cage of her fingers from its opalescent curvature. Carefully she unraveled her will and let her fingers wilt from the cold sphere in her palm. It no longer pulsed as it had when it was first shoved upon her, but pink hues twirled with light silver swirls in shapeless currents beneath its outer sheen. Warmth caressed her like a lover as she gazed into the myriad dances that ravaged the timid orb. Its soft tone gave the impression of peacefulness beneath its surface, but it reminded her of the sea. Flat unwavering water was always clear and tranquil, and yet with but an instance's bidding it could become a whirlwind, a hurricane of flashing waves and frothing torrents of white water. She saw that same quality immersed in the jewel as it relaxed in the crook of her hand.

Lightly she stood up admiring for a moment the smooth shush of her bandaged left arm as it grazed the sheets. Ayumi had learned the art of healing well, and even if she could not feel the wound she knew it was deep and cavernous raging its own canyon along her bruised flesh. She eyed the white bandages warily though for even without the pain she knew that it would scar thick and jarring across her forearm. Pulling her gaze away she padded gently across the cold floors of her quarters. The wood creaked as she approached the bureau its perfectly carved exterior a haunting resemblance to the woodlands that surrounded their island; its soft curves alluding to the thin range of mountains that lined the northern coast. So delicately it recalled the sloping hills and valleys that range across the entire land; the hollows of the lake and the thin slices of the river.

Opening it she took out a thin garment, a robe of sheer fabric. It fell over her in calming waves and clung gently to the curves of her flesh. Short and loose it bared her tight thighs and sharp calves, but held tight to the easy incline of her stomach. She donned no shoes but let her bare feet lead her to the doorway. Unconsciously she clung to the smooth jewel and let it lead her furtively out the doorway and along the backside of the lodgings. Legs working diligently she crossed low meadows and the dew clinging to the thinning flurry of her dress where it pranced about her ankles.

She fell into an easy gait as she approached the foothills. Leaving the temples and incense burning behind her she gained the height of the nearest slope. Tall grass embraced her shins and tickled the vacuous slip behind her knees. A smile flitted across her lips despite the agony of the world around her, and yet the slight breeze yanking playfully at her loose curls pulled away the aches of her country and soothed her with its inviting touch.

The land fell away about her in all directions but to the north where it swept up wide skirts about the ankles of towering peaks. The mountains roared with a bracing wind that scraped at their bared rock, a fierce wall of defiance. Turning her back on them she gazed out upon the valley before her tasting the hint of salt that rode on the back of a zephyr. Coarse grass covered the hills about her, ladies' tresses springing up sporadically amongst lupine and buttercups. Wild onion blooms tangled with wheatgrass and splayed out in unbalanced heaps across the lower reaches of the hills. She took it all in as if never having seen it before and her perception was at once blurred, and focused. The sting of the sharp grass cut into the tight but smooth skin of her legs but the clouds in the distance melded from sky to treetops in an off white blur that caressed the morning sunlight, arms widespread and imploring. The puff dispersed slowly winding its way over the treetops.

Detached, Kagome watched it encroaching on her moving more like a snake than a cloud formation as it neared her. It slithered over the land, a latent fog that had its own life, its own will that demanded some speedy fulfillment as it moved faster every second. With a sharp intake of breath she felt the need that curled maliciously within it as it approached her. Her legs buckled and she fell unceremoniously to the ground clutching the sphere to her chest as the mass of shifting mist approached. Unflinchingly she reached out as it neared her feeling the icy winds that shaped it. It let itself enfold her, a smooth blanket that seeped into the open air about her and engulfed her limbs. Her sight grew fainter and blackness swallowed her vision as she felt her body relaxing to the calming massage of cloud and the comfortable cradle of the earth beneath her.

_Tongues of fire lapped at her legs as the hung limp below her. The misted cloud that had swallowed her had unfurled to reveal this heatless flame. She rode atop its waves in light bobs and yet with little effort could still feel the sway of the grass about her and the rough earth beneath her. _

_Glimpsing this world so separate from herself she saw a man beside her staring into the distance. He himself was not as enraptured with the flames, some feet away from them she knew he must feel their maddening heat but dare not turn his gaze from what held it with such intensity. In a moment she took in his rough chest carved out of torso with thin beads of sweat cloaking his shoulders. He was tall and his heart within him as rough as his hardened muscles._

_Following his gaze she felt her hovering body shift, a gently twisting but her dress felt as if it's cloth had snagged on some unseen barb. Wordlessly, and motionlessly she willed it loose, miraculously filling the shear fall away. Returning her attention to the trees that bordered what looked like scattered fields she saw what had captured him and it held her at bay with just as much urgency. They were flooded with power, that wretched at her heart her very being in thrusts of anger as they scoured the land before them. The air about them swirled with the thrill of a hunt and they barked like maddened dogs in the face of their prey. It took but a moment longer for her to identify them as they slithered nearer. The unmistakable stench of evil wafted towards her in a undulating heave of pestilence, and they reared their various heads in a cry of triumph as they came upon the filtering smoke that permeated the air._

_Demons. Demons were upon them. She cast a wary glance to the man beneath her, and for a moment caught his eye. They were locked in an embrace of gazes and a bridge between them was crossed. He faltered in his calm demeanor for an instant and she felt herself dip_ _dangerously closer to the smoldering logs below. The world beyond his from wavered and she felt the heat of the fire burn her flesh. She cried out in earnest unable to control her limbs as she floated awkwardly. His eyes bulged and he reached up quickly, but pulled his hand away as a demon swirling about the fire snapped at it._

_And then she was awakened to the scene about her and saw them, hundreds of them trailing about the wisps of curling smoke. They were near enough to scratch her flesh and yet as they shriveled and shook about her in a frightening dance. They eyed her suspiciously as they all but draped their limbs about her. They sickened her and yet evoked a latent power within her that seethed and writhed in response to their promptings._

_A voice broke the stern silence she had not noted until it was absent and spoke informatively. "Unbeknownst to this land these very creatures ravage the outskirts or your country. Outrageously you may wish to protest their encroachment on our boundaries, their very existence you may challenge as they have not been seen or heard from for thousands of years, but they do not come unbidden." An swift silence filled the spaces after her words and floated on led wings through the air about them, a weighty expectancy chilling the atmosphere._

_"They cannot come unbidden as they were invited to share the wealth of our land." Kagome started as she felt the last words fall from her very lips. The man beneath her was caught within her reign of vision and could not avert his eyes. The demons flooded the ground about him and seemed to choke his limbs with just as much if not more fervor than they had solicited her. "They will come, eventually to shroud this land in permanent residence, so sweetly asked, so gently beseeched to do so. There must be those who rise to stop this intrusion, or the gods they feed off of will fade into nonexistence and all hope for your people will cease to be an option."_

_A terror of unknown proportions filled her lungs and she felt herself choke on the words as they jumped from her tongue. There were no more to come though and as the fire swerved about with a bidding of its own the demons faded and then dissipated. Before her the man stood staring all but open mouthed at her. His form shifted gently as if the breeze that brought the fire sputtering had made him but a specter. In a few moments he faded away entirely and the blackness rode again on its carriage of shadows to color her vision with night._

The inkling of itching grass become more than a notion and then her hands here pushing her body up from the wretched threads of scratching growth. The night hair flushed her face and she felt a throb in her head. Both hands pressed against the earth she realized she was no longer carrying the jewel. Searching about her she found it lying beside her. Reaching for it she felt its warmth even before her fingers closed about it. Gazing into its depth she saw a ring of fire engulfing the swirling mists of its inner torment, and the past day came reeling back to her.

The demoness that floated before him began to waver, and for the first time he noticed the change in her appearance. Her face was a blaze of chiseled features that struck him with familiarity, recognition withholding itself just enough to persuade him he knew the face that stared intently back at him, and betrayed the knowledge that he had never known the name that belonged to that face. Her words, that had berated him with their truthfulness had seemed forced but were definitely of her lips. She disappeared slowly, falling in upon herself and dying with the forms of demons that had crowded about her.

The warmth of the fire heightened his senses and he backed away from it instinctively now able to control himself. Its inner logs had become pools of ash that rippled gently surrounded by a ring of fire that at away at its edges in painful nibbles. He shivered despite the heat and let the night air sooth his aching limbs. The world about him was altogether different, altogether new. He had no idea how to approach it and so calmly went to the well to fetch a bucket. As soon as the fire was out, as soon as its flames no longer called to his primal instinct of hunger he could think on this. He needed time, and patience to aide him, above all he felt he needed the girl, the hellion of the flames, to help him.

**AN:** Okey so that didn't really turn out as I had planned but I wanted them to experience it at the same time... kind of came out a little cheesy, but I'll work on keeping it a little more substancy next time. Hopefully there isn't such a long wait.


End file.
